


The Devil's Favor

by DareDevilR21



Category: MCU, Marvel, The Punisher - Fandom, daredevil - Fandom
Genre: AU, Blind Character, Blood, Fratt - Freeform, Frett, Gen, Guns, Hurt Matt Murdock, Sort Of Fluff (eventually), Team- Ups, Temporarily deafness, The Defenders Didn't Happen, Violence, Worried Frank Castle, what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DareDevilR21/pseuds/DareDevilR21
Summary: Frank convinces Matt to team up with him again, since Matt still owed him a favor.Or, Matt gets hurt. Frank gets worried.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> YES! My second work! I'm pretty happy with how the first chapter turned out. I'm planning on writing at least three chapters. And planning on fluff. Yes, I know, this is quite extra, and Frank might be different than he is in your visions. It's Frank's POV. English is NOT my native language, so sorry for grammar mistakes.

 

The Devil had owed him a favour. He had come to collect that favour. 

 

 

That had been hours ago. Just hours ago, he had been firing his gun at full speed, reloading his stock every few minutes. Frank had found out about quite a big gang war, and he knew he would have needed help. So of course, he had thought of Red. Even though the vigilante insisted on keeping everyone alive, though not afraid of hurting, he was definitely the best ally Frank could wish for. And hell, had Red been angry with him. Yes, he owed Frank a favour, and no, he didn’t have anything better to do, but teaming up with _him?_ Hell, he would probably rather die than teaming up with Frank _again_ , and even though Frank knew that, he had convinced Red of joining him in his ever- lasting crusade. 

 

 

So there they had been, fighting side to side, like war buddies. Frank and Red could have been good friends, but they both annoyed the hell out of each other.Though, Frank _did_ respect Red’s moral code, and he understood the man even more when he had found out his identity. Sure, he was in his late-twenties, but _damn_ , he was young. Matt Murdock, a catholic lawyer over day, a law- breaker, a _vigilante_ , at night. Frank respected him, probably always would. The fact that he might have been a little into the handsome, leather- clad vigilante didn’t help Frank either.

 

 

It didn’t help him when they first met, when he could have put a bullet through the head of his new- found enemy, but also his new- found ally. It didn’t help him on that damned rooftop either, where and when he could have killed some random thug, right in front of the goody-two-shoes. It didn’t help him when he found out that his own damn lawyer was the annoying shithead that prevented him from doing his damn duty. It didn’t help him when he confronted Red with the fact that Frank knew who he was. But most of all, it didn’t help him _right now._

 

__

 

Right now, when he was looking- staring- at the clock, fidgeting with the bottle in his hand. Counting away the hour- lasting seconds, fidgeting with the cords of his oversized, grey sweater. Watching the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, strongly wishing Matt would be back before 2 AM- the time they had both agreed on as the time where they could go looking for each other, when they hadn’t came back to Matt’s apartment- while drumming his fingers on the windowsill. Slowly driving insane at images of Matt bleeding out somewhere where Frank would never find him. Frank _had_ to find Red. Had to find _his Red._

 

 

Fuck Red’s rules- not like he ever listened to the vigilante, if he had the possibility not to- he had to go looking for Matt immediately. It was 0:54 AM. Over two hours since he had last seen the Devil. 120 minutes since the Devil had disappeared.

 

Frank walked stamping to the big closet on the wall, opening his damned bag, putting in every fucking gun that fit in, taking another revolver to hold in his left hand, while he climbed up the stairs to roof access. He took a deep breath in, focussing on the task that lay ahead of him. 

 

 

All he had to do was to find the Devil.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know what the fuck happened to the spaces in between the lines. I guess I was a little too enthousiastic?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this took me a while. I sometimes just don't seem to be able to find inspiration. I really hope this isn't too cringey or poorly written. Please leave a comment when u came across something that isn't (grammarly) correct. Enjoy reading!

By the time Frank had made an actual plan, he was being swallowed by guilt, worries, but most of all, anger. Frank was angry like only Frank could be.  Angry with himself for convincing Red to come along.  Angry with Red for finally agreeing to tag along. Angry with those gangs that had the guts to _hurt_ Red. _Furious_ with himself for not being able to _protect_ Red.

 

Frank had tried to pull out the earplugs he wore when he was going on a mission on which he knew there would be a lot of shooting involved. But after a few times he noticed that there were no earplugs to pull out. Then he realised his ears were damaged by the sonic bomb that their enemies had used. His hearing was less good than usually, which he found odd, since he had been standing at least sixty meters away from it, while wearing protective earplugs. It’s not like he couldn’t hear anything anymore, but the change in perception was enough to at least confuse him.

 

Frank’s plan wasn’t really a plan, except that he decided to stay on the rooftops for half an hour, would look for Red in the alleyways, would wait for him to return to his apartment. After those thirty minutes, he could go searching through Hell’s Kitchen. If he hadn’t found Matt at sunrise, he could call in reinforcement, and search through whole New York. If Red still hadn’t been located by then, then well. He didn’t know.

 

But right now, Frank’s heart was pounding in his chest. The thirty minutes were almost over, and adrenaline had somehow started spreading through his body. Frank felt like a predator. Hunting the ones who hurt the Devil, like His very own demon, and the streets of Hell were Frank’s playground.

 

Frank started crawling over the rooftops, going into the direction of the warehouse he had been a few hours ago. They had been sitting on a building across the block, discussing their attack. Frank would take out the ones armed with guns, while Matt would go for the others. Their goal was to take down all men, then get information about their business, and the head of the snake. And of course, hand them over to the NYPD. Alive.

 

They had looked at each other, before shaking the other’s hand, both acting much more confident then they actually felt. Then Frank had turned, and he jumped of the building, into an alley. He heard Matt jump onto a water tank that stood a few meters away from the building. From there Red had climbed down quietly, and he ran into the huge warehouse. Then the waiting had begun.

 

Red would actuate the men to come outside, by placing a small, almost innocent bomb in the back of the building. Then he would let the bomb explode, and Frank would start fighting the first guys to come out of the building. That part of the plan went rather good, actually, the men running out, utterly confused, some even scared. Frank decided he rather enjoyed the show a little longer, he would wait for the Devil to come and play. So, when a red figure made an impressing entrance- exit, really-  by jumping down from a window on the second floor, Frank’s heart began beating even faster.

 

The Devil smiled viciously, then he got to work.

 

The fight had been a blur, images of great violence passing through his mind. He had destroyed guns, and men, in a lethal pace, while carefully keeping everyone alive enough to breathe on their own. When a few men left Frank, and ran towards Red, Frank knew he was going to like this. The Devil didn’t even turn around, but Frank knew that he knew the men were there. When a red- haired foe tried to attack Matt, he quickly turned around, grabbed the outstretched leg, and twisted it while pulling back. The man cried out, grabbing his leg, before getting kicked hard in his face. Matt smiled satisfied, and he made a gesture with his hands to the others: come and get me.

 

Two guys tried to take Daredevil down at the same time. But Matt simply grabbed the fists out of the air, and twisted their arms with such strength, that even Frank could hear the bones pop out of their sockets. But they didn’t give up yet. One of the guys quickly drew back, letting the fourth and fifth guy join the fight. They stood around Red in a circle, and the sight of it was enough to send Frank’s heart skyrocketing. Four small men in black, standing around the big and muscled symbol of evil: The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Like Matt could hear Frank’s thoughts, he straightened his back and sighed. He tilted his chin a little, probably listening to their heartbeats.

 

And then Frank got distracted by a woman who attacked him, but not before he noticed she was armed with at least two knives. He quickly dismantled her, but he got a few quick fists in his face, and a kick against his knee. It didn’t break, fortunately. Suddenly, Frank had noticed that a group of people had managed to get away, and he ran after them. That’s when they had used a sonic bomb, and Frank had heard Matt scream. But he didn’t have time to help him. He quickly punched everybody unconscious, and he himself had earned some hits as well. But when he had tried to run back to DareDevil, a bullet pierced its way into the ground, just centimetres from Frank’s foot. He barely had time to find a place to hide. But after long minutes of pure tension, he overcame his shock, and he killed the shooter that had dared to come so close to Frank Castle. Soon enough Frank noticed there were more shooters here, so he went to Matt’s apartment.

 

Now Frank was here, slowly walking the rooftops, while still scanning the alleys, looking for a body covered in red and black leather. He had altered his plan, he would do the more logical thing, which was to go back to the warehouse. He had high hopes Matt would be there. Frank had no idea in which state he would be, though.

 

A few minutes later, the massacre in front of the warehouse became visible, and Frank clenched his jaw. He could hear the police coming, probably warned by a citizen that had heard the bomb explosions. Frank had to hurry, if he didn’t want Red to end up dead or in jail.

 

He started running, his heartbeat almost beating its way out of his chest. Red would not be happy to see him, and he knew that, but that didn’t mean the feeling was mutual. _He_ wanted to see Matt, he _needed_ to see Matt. Needed to know he was alive.

 

Frank went to stand still on the roof where they had discussed their plan, just hours ago. When he didn’t see the vigilante’s dead body, both an icy feeling and relief went through his body. He jumped of the building for the second time this night, and walked between the bodies. That’s when he heard a loud bang from an alley.

 

He quickly ran, almost stumbled, to the alley, hoping, _praying_ it was Matt. Frank never prayed. His hands were ice cold, trembling from both cold and worries. He calmed his breathing a little, and he stepped into the dark alley.

 

He clenched his jaw when immediately he saw a body lean against a wall, chest heaving, limbs flailing. There was blood, a lot of blood, fresh blood on his body, but also blood on the ground and on the wall. The man fell on the ground, and the moon made the sight even more obscene.

 

A sickening white light shone down on a bloodied body, which was dressed in red- and black leather.

 

Frank gasped, and dropped himself to his knees next to Matt, and pulled off the vigilante’s cowl. Matt froze, eyes opened widely, irises darting around, but unseeing.

 

‘Shh, Red, it’s me. Frank.’ He tried to tell him, but suddenly, Matt started throwing random limbs at Frank, too weakened to fight him, but too _goddamn_ stubborn to ever stop fighting. Frank grabbed his wrists, ‘Matty, it’s me, calm down, before you’ll hurt yourself’. But his words didn’t seem to reach Red’s ears. That’s when Frank understood, and he swore. The bastard couldn't hear him. Without second thought, he let go of Matt’s wrists, and covered Matt’s mouth firmly with one hand. The other hand went loosely over his nose. Matt had no choice but to breathe in through his nose, but the stubborn son of a bitch started fighting, trying to crawl away from Frank, and almost succeeding. So Frank made another stupid choice: he threw one of his legs over Matt’s body, and clamped Red’s body firmly between his knees, stopping him from moving away. Then he felt Matt breathing under his hand, and Red stilled. Frank hopefully lifted both of his hands from Red’s face.

 

“F-Frank?” Great gods, Red had recognised Frank’s scent. “Fra-Frank, I can’t hear! I can’t hear anything at all…” Matt’s voice died away. God, he sounded so scared. Frank cupped Red’s face with his palm, and gave himself a second to observe the wounds that littered Matt’s body. There was a small trail of blood in his ears and nose, a black eye had started forming, and a mean cut in his jaw was also bleeding a little. He found out that Matt’s shoulder was dislocated, and his right wrist could have been strained. Red probably had a few bruised ribs- if not broken, and enough bruises to cover his whole body. There were a few shallow cuts, a few deeper ones that definitely needed attention and maybe even stitches, but the only thing that would certainly need professional help and stitching was the big, deep cut that bled heavily in his thigh. The last wound Frank could find was the grasp of a bullet in Matt’s calf. But Matt would be okay. His Matt would be okay.

 

Frank grabbed Red’s hand and talked against it. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, Red. I’m gonna take you home now, okay, buddy?” Frank very carefully put his hands under Red, and lifted him from the floor. He then took the cowl, and softly put it back on Matt’s face. A warm feeling of relief rushed through his body.

 

He had found the Devil.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the second chapter! The third chapter will very likely contain fluff, or anything in the direction of fluff. IDK when I'll upload it tho.


	3. Chapter 3

Hell’s Kitchen would hide in their homes, close their doors and windows when Daredevil and the Punisher were fighting on their very own rooftops, which the two of them protected every night in their own way, both convinced their way was better than the other’s. Mostly, that was the reason that stirred their fights, and they could last for hours- if not days. They both weren’t afraid to hurt the other, using every bit of strength they contained in their body. Frank- and Matt- knew the people of their city were afraid when they were fighting, but they were both filled with an everlasting rage.

 

While the people shut their doors and kept their conversations down, listening concentrated to the fight that occurred on their rooftops, right now, it seemed to Frank that whole Hell’s Kitchen was out on the streets. At a certain moment, Frank wasn’t even surprised anymore when he heard a camera or a phone click. He probably would do the same. If he had to be honest with himself, Frank was just as surprised as the rest of New York.

 

The Punisher happening to carry the Devil.  Bridal- style.

 

Frank cursed, knowing they would be in the spotlight the rest of the week. Fuck that. Red was hurt. He had to do this. Right?

 

Frank managed to come up with a route without too many people noticing them, and he let out an exhausted sigh. He was glad they were back in his apartment. He carefully put Red on his couch, putting the softest pillow under the man’s head he could find. It was almost four AM, but the hardest part hadn’t even started yet. Frank went to grab the first aid box in Matt’s kitchen, but then he heard a loud groan, coming from Matt’s direction. For the second time this night, Frank ran, stumbling like a fool.

 

“Red? Red, talk to me. Can you hear me?” Frank rambled, but Matt seemed so out of it, he couldn’t bring out another word. Not much later, Matt started hyperventilating and his body started shaking. Frank decided he didn’t like this, and he grabbed Matt’s hand.

 

Matt’s body flinched away, hard enough to let the pain become visible on Red’s face. He closed his unseeing eyes, and gasped loudly. “Frank? Frank, are you still here?” Of course Frank was, what was the idiot thinking. Frank squeezed Matt’s hand a little, and the other man seemed to calm down a little. Just a little, but enough for him to properly breathe one time. As minutes passed, both men frozen in time, Matt seemed to calm down, and Frank was certain he would faint in just a second. But the shaking had stopped, and his breathing had almost gone back to normal. The stubborn bastard hadn’t even gone into shock, while Frank was more than certain he had lost way too much blood.

 

Frank squeezed Matt’s hand, and he stood up to get the first aid kit. He tried to ignore the sudden shriek when he let go of the other’s hand. He quickly ran towards Matt’s cupboard, and hastily destroyed the lock with his bare fist. He ran back stumbling- _stumbling, again_ \- and sped to Matt’s side. He quickly grabbed the trembling hand of the now shaking vigilante. Frank had jinxed himself, Matt was definitely going into shock, no matter how stubborn he was.

 

“Stay still now.” Frank whispered. And stay with me, he thought. He looked at Matt’s face, his lips were blue suddenly, and he was shaking and sweaty. Dark and bright blood stained Matt’s newly bought, white couch. He tried not to listen to the way Red’s breathing was rather vocal, and the way his chest heaved in an effort of sucking in as much oxygen as they could. But they couldn’t. Frank observed the severity of his wounds, and after he had laid Matt’s legs on a few soft pillows he went to work on the gushing cut on his thigh. He tied his belt as tightly as he could around Red’s leg a few inches above the wound, trying to stop or at least lessen the bleeding.

 

He would have to move quickly, had to get Red warmer as soon as possible. He opened the first aid kit, and took out some bandage, he tightly wound it around the cut, hoping it would help stop the bleeding faster. He would stitch it as soon as he could actually manage to _see_ the wound. After that Frank took out the fabric scissors and cut open Red’s suit. It was damaged anyway. The material sticked to the almost dried blood, and he carefully managed to remove it from Red’s skin. Frank took a smaller pair of scissors and took a cotton ball, after he had soaked it in iodine. “Matt, you still with me?” He didn’t get an answer. Which shouldn’t have surprised him, though. It still did.

 

Frank firmly wiped the cotton ball over the first cut, and he was actually relieved when he heard Red hiss. Frank put one of his hands flat on Matt’s bare chest, feeling the other’s quickened heartbeat. One of Matt’s hands shot up and grabbed his, holding on for dear life, eyes suddenly widened in fear. Frank squeezed his hand, giving him a sign that he would move on. He quickly worked over the cuts on his arms and hands, each time squeezing the clammy, bloodied hand. He carefully let go of Matt when he was going to clean his chest. Most cuts weren’t that deep, and Matt lay perfectly still. After a while he had cleaned all the wounds on his upper body, he bandaged them, and stitched some of them. By the time Frank was done with it, Matt had lost his consciousness.

 

Frank stood up and went for the bathroom, where he took the softest towel he could find, wet it with lukewarm water, and went back. He dropped to his knees and wiped Matt’s face clean. He moved slowly, watching Matt’s expressions and face. He looked so peaceful right now, even though the big billboard outside his window shone a weird purple light on his face. He was so handsome. More than handsome, which, to Frank, was a lot to admit. He caressed Red’s stubbled face, and ran his fingers slowly through the thick brown hair. Then Frank just sat there, forgetting about the wound, which was still bleeding in Matt’s thigh. The only thing he could see was Matt.

 

It was the first time Frank had ever allowed himself to love someone after—no. He shook his head, clearing the images of his wife and children, dead and bloody, out of his head. He wouldn’t fail this time. Frank could protect Matt, and Matt could protect him. Frank knew that Matt wasn’t made of glass, and Frank didn’t treat him that way either. He knew that Matt could see better than any person who had the actual ability to see. There was something about that, the faked vulnerability, the masquerade Matt put up as a lawyer, that intrigued him. Something about the way Matt tried to keep all the bad thing to himself, not even having the teeniest bit of self-preservation. Matt brought out Frank’s soft side he didn’t even know he possessed. He loved Matt, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to lose him.

 

Frank stood up, determined, went to the bathroom again and cleansed the towel, before he took it back again to wipe the sweat and blood off of Matt’s body. Matt was still bleeding, so Frank left the dried blood for what it was, and cleaned Red’s thigh with the towel instead. The wound was still bleeding a bit, but Frank could manage. He picked a needle and a thread, and after drenching it with iodine, he put it in the flesh of the leg. With his other hand he held the cut closed, making it easier to stitch. A few minutes later, Frank was satisfied with his work, so he cut a bit more bandage and wrapped it around the leg tightly. Then he took off the belt, and sat back.

 

Frank sighed, and looked at his watch. Damn it. The sun was already setting, which- again- shouldn’t surprise him, since it was half past six. Yet again, it did.

His brain couldn’t quite understand what was really going on, he only knew that Matt did get hurt, and he himself didn’t. Now, Frank wasn’t the type of guy that blamed himself, or drowned in his guilt, unlike Red, but, well, this really was his fault, wasn’t it?

 

He stood up with a groan, his muscles sore from sitting almost three hours on the cold, hard ground. He opened Matt’s fridge, thunderstruck when he actually saw _food_. Frank decided he should make pancakes. He took out the ingredients and put them all on the counter. He lit the stove, put some butter in the pan and poured in the sweet mix. Half an hour had passed already, and Frank wiped his face with his hand, accidently wiping flower across his nose. He went to wash it off with tap water, when Frank heard a shriek coming from the couch. He ran, stumbled, actually fell this time, to the couch. Matt tried to speak, but Frank shushed him and grabbed his hand. Matt visibly relaxed, and a poor, pathetic smile spread across his cheeks. Frank smiled back, not knowing, neither caring, whether Matt could see it.

 

“I heard that, Frank.” Red said, voice hoarse from his screams. Relief overwhelmed Frank, and he gasped slightly. “It’s okay, Frank. It’s okay, _I_ am okay.” Frank squeezed his hand, unable to respond, as tears filled his eyes and rolled down his face. Matt wiped them away, eyes not flickering, but focussed, just a little too high to be looking into his eyes, but Frank couldn’t care less. Then Frank realized. He’d never actually seen Matt’s eyes- not without the glasses or the mask. Frank gasped loudly, but instead of drawing back, he leaned in closer, and cupped Matt’s cheek with his hand. Frank stared into his big, beautiful, brown eyes, and he almost whined when he saw the exact moment the realization hit Matt as well. He looked down, eyelids covering half of his eyes, while his hand hovered over the table, scanning for his red glasses. Frank grabbed his wrist firmly.

 

“Matt.” He started, but Matt’s other hand was now also trying to reach his glasses, and Frank had a little trouble holding the man’s wrist. Matt clenched his eyes shut, till a point where it almost looked painful. When Matt let out a few deep huffs, free arm randomly flailing, desperately looking for his glasses, Frank took his other wrist as well. “Matt.” Frank said again, letting his hands slip from Matt’s wrists to his hands. “You’re beautiful.” Slowly, Matt opened his eyes, and Frank sighed in relief when he saw the brown irises again, Matt’s long black eyelashes almost touching his eyebrows. His eyes flickered a bit, before Matt dropped them and observed their hands.

 

Frank looked at Red’s face, saving every detail of it inside his head since he wanted to remember this moment forever. It was simple: Matt Murdock was stunningly perfect. He squeezed Matt’s hand gently, and Red’s body went from tense to relaxed and sleepy in less than a second. God, he was beautiful. When Matt squeezed back, his heart went skyrocketing, and he felt funny. “Matt, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Then, suddenly, Matt snapped his eyes up again, and Frank’s breath hitched when Matt’s watery eyes bore directly into his. A tear fell down, and it landed on their hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I can’t control them, a-and I don’t want you t-to think…” but Frank shushed him before he could finish the sentence by placing a soft kiss against Matt’s hands. Matt sucked in a deep breath, before releasing it with a deep sigh. “Matt, it doesn’t matter. Do you know why?” Matt shook his head. “Because I like you, Red. Have been for a while.”

 

 Matt huffed, dropped his eyes, and sighed a few times. “Frank, you know I’m catholic, right?” Frank nodded and squeezed his hand, motivating him to go on. “Well, two men being… together is a new thing. I know it doesn’t matter to you, but that’s the reason I didn’t want to team up. I wanted to… well, I don’t know. I wanted _something_.” He mumbled, voice going down as new tears welled up. He breathed a shaky breath before adding: “I wanted to avoid my feelings, I guess… I know Father Lantom doesn’t mind it, he says love is love and some…” after that Matt started talking so fast and soft Frank couldn’t understand it anymore.

“Matt!” Frank shouted, wincing as he saw Matt flinch and tense up again. “Sorry, I am a mess, I just… Frank, I like you too.” Frank almost fell off the couch, and he choked on his breath. It took him a second to recover, but he looked up to see Matt’s face beaming. A wide smile on his face, and damn, smiling looked good on the guy. He simultaneously smiled back, and they both chuckled. Oh fuck it, Frank thought. He felt like a schoolgirl enough already, but couldn’t help but add something to the scene. He leaned in, placed a soft kiss against Matt’s lips, and Matt responded quickly. His hands grabbed Frank’s hair, and he kissed Frank back softly, but with so much passion Frank could just _melt_. Then Matt chuckled loudly, and drew back a bit. “Frank, there’s flower on your nose.” Frank grinned as well, and he let Matt wipe it away with his soft fingers. “This is so cliché, Frank. I like it.” Frank hummed in agreement, as he pulled Matt into a long hug. He sniffed in the scent of Matt’s hair, ignoring the scent of blood and dirt. Later, he thought. He felt Matt’s lungs expand against his chest, and he realised he felt better than he had in ages.

 

“I baked some pancakes, want some?” Matt’s stomach growled and they both stood up laughing, Matt leaning into Frank, hopping on his good leg to the kitchen counter, where the warm pancakes stood. Frank took some syrup and helped Matt back to the table in the living room. They ate in a glorious silence, their hands still holding the other’s. Frank finished up a little sooner than Matt, and he sat back to look at Matt, whom was now illuminated by the golden light of the morning sun. Matt smiled at him when he was done too, and Frank just felt _so good_.

 

“I assume we’re not gonna talk about what happened last night?” Frank asked. “Nope, not now, maybe not ever.” Was his response. “I did save your ass, though. I’d say I at least deserved a ‘thank you, Frank.’” Matt chuckled, and planted a pancake- tasting kiss on Frank’s lips. “Thank you, Frank. I owe you.” Matt whispered, then he placed his head on Frank’s shoulder. “You sure as hell do, Red.”

 

Than they just sat, while the morning sun created a golden aura illuminating both them and their beloved city.

 

 

The Devil owes him a favour, he will come to collect that favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well... here goes my attempt to write fluff:) I really hope you liked this story, and maybe I should turn this into a series? I know it's quite cringey and my english isn't all too great, but it's not my native language so Im sorry if there are grammar mistakes or typos. I wanna thank everyone for reading this, and IM honestly surprised by how many hits this story's gotten so far!! comments are welcome! :)


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